


Why do titles sound like clickbait

by Autistic_council_spectre



Category: Dragon Age II, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, I Ship It, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 13:58:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15753105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Autistic_council_spectre/pseuds/Autistic_council_spectre
Summary: We've all seen fics of what could happen if Commander Shepard managed to end up in Thedas but what if it was someone else? Someone like Nihlus Kryik. Turian Spectre for the Citadel Council thrust into a world he knows nothing about but maybe someone will be able to help him. And maybe more.aka this started as a joke between friends and now im in hell. im invested in this ship and now i can't escape send help





	Why do titles sound like clickbait

**Author's Note:**

> when will the government stop these sinning hands

Everything was  _ pain _ in this instant. Muscles he didn't even know existed hurt and he was fairly certain that blood was supposed to stay inside of a person's body, not come out of their mouth in a fine mist every time they wheezed out a rattling breath. Ribs as well he was sure were supposed to be under his chest not attempting to have a marriage to his lungs. But he was stubborn and rallied against his own mortality for a few more moments as he put one shaking foot in front of the other with a sharp clack-clack-clack against the platform.

Past the glowing blue form of a human child he didn't recognize towards the blood red light emanating from a console almost angrily. He didn't know if it was the right choice, fuck  _ none of them _ seemed to be the right choice, but it was the one he was decided upon. He just hoped it would turn out okay for all those he was leaving behind.

When he was close enough to feel the searing heat radiating off of it an arm was lifted weakly before a shot was fired.

In that moment the whole universe seemed to stand still, holding its breath before the bullet connected and it exploded like one dying star. Nihlus was flung backwards in a wave of heat so intense he didn't feel the pain. All he had was a moment to think “oh. So this is what dying is like” before it all faded to black.

\--------

_ He was floating in a void. Suspended and unable to move himself, subject to the whims of whatever being made occasional waves in the blackness. It was disconcerting truly to stretch out his legs in the hopes of feeling some solid form only to feel: nothing. _

_ Was this death? No afterlife? Only floating alone with his thoughts and no companionship but an inky unfeeling blackness all around him? _

_ No. No this couldn't be the end there had to be something  _ more  _ than this for him. _

_ He tried to turn, to move and swim with the current, but everything was the same and he felt nothing no matter what he did. _

_ Until he felt  _ something _. _

_ A tendril touched his foot and he  _ kicked _ but it wrapped itself around his legs to constrict him and stop his flailing. Another one sought out his arms and summarily immobilized him. He opened his mouth then to scream but it was forced shut and he was dragged down, down, down, down to spirits knew where in this never ending abyss. _

_ From the edge of his hearing he could hear whispers and laughter. Harsh voices spoke in tongues he didn't understand, that mortal minds weren't  _ made _ to comprehend. And his eyes beheld beings that should never see the light of day. _

_ Twisting, seeking limbs in a sprawling mass of flesh with too many roving eyes, too many mouths filled to the brim with sharp teeth. This void was Their home and he didn't belong here. _

_ His eyes were starting to unfocus and consciousness was being stolen from him for what he had seen, before he heard a blood curdling scream and he was released. _

_ Warm hands wrapped themselves around him and he was held to an unfamiliar chest. Everything about this person radiated warmth and safety but consciousness was still slipping through his hands like so many grains of sand. _

_ The last thing he felt was a gentle hand on his face and a soft voice that spoke in an oddly familiar tone.  _ “It is not your time yet. Not quite.”

\------

The first time he woke was for a brief moment to a too bright light and hands touching his chest. They were soft and almost too hot and..wet? Oh. He was bleeding. Snatches of voices filtered through saying something about an Anders? He didn't know he was just so...tired.

The second time he woke everything was too hot and the hands weren't on his chest this time but on his shoulders. They were restraining him and his brain slowly informed him he was thrashing and those groans were coming from his mouth. Eventually a soothing light entered his vision and he mercifully fell back into unconsciousness.

The third time he woke he felt like he had been run over but it would appear he wasn't actively dying or being choked by a fever. So Nihlus carefully pulled the blanket off of him with the plan to ease himself out of bed before stopping short.

The hand that clutched the thin blanket was most assuredly not his hand.

Oh it had his coloring, a deep russet brown, but it had five fingers, blunt little talons and soft skin with no plates. Cautiously he flexed the fingers and yep. That was indeed his hand.

The blanket was torn off his half dressed form and he had to stifle a confused shriek. His plates? Gone and in their place soft flesh,  _ human _ flesh. His spurs on his hips and legs? Gone as well. The only things that told him it was his body other than the fact it moved was various scars and his swirling white tattoos.

This. Had to be a dream it was the only logical explanation. So Nihlus tried to calm his breathing and closed his eyes. If he just counted to three then opened them he'd be awake. One. Two. On three his eyes opened and….still the human body he apparently inhabited now sat there, silently mocking him.

What in the name of the Spirits had he gotten into?


End file.
